


Nothing Stops a Party Like Taking a Header Out a Window

by AngeNoir



Series: AvLand Gift Exchange [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: College, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:52:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4698143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Honestly, it probably wasn't one of Matt's brighter ideas, but in his defense, he really thought he could do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Stops a Party Like Taking a Header Out a Window

**Author's Note:**

  * For [guineamania](https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineamania/gifts).



It had taken Matt a long time to get used to the constant noise and pressure around him, a long time to figure out what _this_ pattern of heat meant versus _this_ pattern; what _this_ heartbeat coupled with _this_ smell meant compared to _this_ heartbeat coupled with _that_ smell. It was a constant barrage and sometimes he wished he could cut out all his senses, end everything.

Those days, at least, were fewer and farther between.

Here, in college, preparing for law school, he tried to ignore the thumping party going on below him and finish his paper. It was getting harder to, it seemed – he already had a pounding migraine and if the party wasn’t between him and the outside of the building, he’d consider just leaving and going outside, sitting in some place where at least he could pretend he couldn’t hear things that were happening a mile away.

The wind picked up a bit, making the curtains rustle and the leaves sigh.

Speculatively, he turned to the window and eyed it. He could fit through it, though it’d be tight, and maybe he could reach the tree. The problem was that the tree wasn’t all that old; he couldn’t guarantee the branches would hold him. They looked thick enough, but he’d been putting on weight with how often he went to the campus gym in the early morning, trying to get some rest for his senses by focusing on the clatter of weights alone. Six months ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Now…

But the pounding was really starting to make his head ache, and his teeth grind.

He was crouched in the window, four stories up, backpack with his books and papers on his back, cane folded and pressed in his pocket, when the door opened to his dorm.

“Murdock? What the hell are you doing?”

“Ahh…” Matt said, scrambling for some logical, reasonable explanation for why he, a blind person, was currently contemplating jumping out a window, and he turned to try and face the direction of Foggy’s voice. The backpack shifted unexpectedly – he hadn’t compensated for its weight – his foot slipped, _dammit_ , and then he was falling—

“ _SHIT!_ ” he heard from his room, and then he slammed into the ground and lost consciousness.

He woke up to the chatter of noise and the squawk of radios, of people speculating and gossiping on the edges of whatever perimeter people had set up, and he could hear Foggy being intensely questioned around the corner. With a groan, he sat up.

“Hey, whoa, easy, man,” someone said, putting a hand on his chest, but he pressed up anyway, ignoring the insistent push against his sternum. Probably an ambulance worker—

“Mr. Murdock, I’m going to need to have you stay still until I can check whether you have a concussion—”

“Sir, I’m blind – if you’re shining a light into my eyes I don’t think I’ll ever give you the response you’re looking for,” Matt said distractedly. “Is my friend okay? Can I see him?”

“You need to calm down, Mr. Murdock,” the person said, but Matt was not above using his blindness to get people to do things for him. He latched on to the man’s hand, babbling about how he needed Foggy, he needed Foggy _now_ , he was going to get up and find Foggy unless Foggy was brought to him—

Eventually (as Matt knew) the man gave in and in moments had interrupted Foggy’s interrogation to bring Foggy to him.

Immediately, Matt latched on to him and said intensely, “Did you find my notes?”

There was a pause, a small silence in the area near him, and then the officer who had been questioning Foggy stepped forward. “Your notes, Mr. Murdock?”

“Yeah, the window was open because it was hot, but the wind must have blown my papers around because I lost some, so I was trying to feel around the windowsill to see if any had gotten outside, and then Foggy surprised me and I leaned too far forward. Did you get my notes?”

After a slow heartbeat of surprise, Foggy said in confusion, “Man, all your notes were on the floor.”

“Shit,” Matt sighed, and leaned back. “Well, I guess I’m glad they’re not floating across the campus.”

“Mr. Murdock, has Mr. Nelson ever treated you badly? How did you fall from a fourth floor window?” the officer pressed.

Matt smiled weakly. “Can I plead stupidity? Foggy’s my best pal, he’s never treated me badly. Well, I think once he tried to put salt in my coffee but honestly I spilled that cup so I didn’t even taste it… But I fell because I was trying to find notes I had dropped, and I thought the wind had pulled them out the window.”

It was a bit flimsy, but no one was going to argue overmuch with a blind guy who’d just taken a header out the window, and so in time they let Foggy lead Matt back up to the room – with a sling for his sprained wrist, and stitches in his forehead.

“Man, what the hell were you trying to do?” Foggy hissed.

Matt sighed and laid down on his bed, headache infinitely worse now. “The party downstairs was giving me a headache. I wanted to see if I could climb down that tree outside my window and go sit somewhere quiet, like the library or in the park.”

“Just – call me if that happens, okay? I’ve got some awesome noise-canceling headphones collecting dust, I can get you that.”

Matt listened closely, not quite sure what he was hearing. It sounded like – worry? Concern? Fear?

“I’m fine, Foggy. Believe it or not, it could’ve been a lot worse. And I’ve had worse from smaller accidents.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Foggy grunted, coming to sit on Matt’s bed. “Do you need Advil?”

Matt sighed. “That would be amazing.”


End file.
